


Keeping Track

by skarlatha



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Is a Big Softie, Fake Character Death, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Tony Totally Rips Off Skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3070256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/pseuds/skarlatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is pretty sure that one day Phil is going to disappear, and he wants to make sure he can find him afterwards. He enlists Tony's help to make that happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Track

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read as gen, although I was envisioning it as pre-slash because come on, these guys are totally crushing on each other. But feel free to squint however you like. 
> 
> I wrote this pretty much immediately after _The Avengers_ came out but never posted it for some reason. Therefore it's probably out-of-date now what with _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._ and later movies and whatnot, but that's okay. Just consider anything that doesn't jive with later events/info as an AU.

Clint wasn’t stupid. 

Well, that was obvious enough. You didn’t get asked to be part of the Avengers Initiative if you were stupid. Fury was in the process of recruiting two certified geniuses, a military captain, a demigod, and the best spy Clint had ever had the privelege of working with. It was definitely a group of overachievers. But Clint did his best to seem like just a soldier with good aim. He didn’t make the rules or the decisions, he just carried them out. That way, when he _did_ do something on his own, nobody noticed because they weren’t used to paying attention. 

But this one he couldn’t do on his own, so he just let out a long-suffering sigh and dealt with the blaring Def Leppard until Tony noticed him and waved the music off.

“Hey there, Birdie,” Stark said. “Jarvis, why didn’t you tell me we had a visitor?”

_I did, sir,_ the velvety voice announced. _Unfortunately, you weren’t able to hear me over your music._

“We need to fix that. I need a speaker implanted in my ear. Put that on my to-do list.”

Clint cleared his throat. “Speaking of implanted electronics... I need something from you.”

Tony didn’t even look at him, just reached forward and spun a holographic image of what appeared to be a nuclear-powered flowerpot. “Sorry, sparky, but I already told Fury I wasn’t interested in this Avengers Initiative.”

Clint nodded even though Tony wasn’t paying attention. “This isn’t part of the Initiative. This is a personal favor.”

Tony did look up then, but only for a second. “I’ve met you what? Once? Twice? I’ve had individual sexual encounters that have lasted longer than our acquaintance. How do I owe you a favor?”

“You don’t,” Clint said. “I just thought you might like a challenge.”

“A challenge, you say?” Tony waved and the holograms went away. “Try me.”

“I need a subdermal chip that I can install on someone without them knowing.”

“I have seven hundred and sixty-eight prototypes already,” Tony said. “Bor-ing.”

“I need it to track them wherever they go and display their location.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “So GPS. Got it. Still boring.”

“More like UPS,” Clint said, then frowned. “Wait. That’s taken. Call it whatever you want, but I need it to work anywhere in the universe.”

Tony paused then and tilted his head in thought. “Tricky, but not impossible.”

Clint smirked. He was getting somewhere. “And I need it to be totally undetectable, even with the most sophisticated scanning software available.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, already lost in the invisible blueprints. “Of course. It would have to be bionic, then, made out of organic materials instead of metal, which would mean I’d have to make a whole new computer system and then link it to the satellites on a quadruple-encrypted frequency--I mean, at _least_ quadruple-encrypted, probably more--and then rig up a dampener to block the signal when it wasn’t transmitting...” He called up his computer system again with some intricate hand gestures and started building the basic model in a hologram while he continued to talk.

Clint broke in. “And I need it to tell me if the person is still alive and healthy.”

“Yeah, yeah, with a biosensor that transmits along with the GPS signal, maybe even taking environmental readings to boost the accuracy of the locator signal...” 

“And I need it to be compatible with Siri.”

“ _Nope,_ ” Tony said, dismissing the hologram immediately with a jerk of his hand. “No way. Out of the question. I’m not doing anything that has to jump through Apple’s ridiculous hoops. That system is the programming equivalent of herpes. You can pretend everything’s wonderful and you can drive in a convertible through fields of daisies with a pretty woman at your side while you grin into a camera, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got junk on your junk and you’ll never get rid of it.”

“Ew,” Clint said. “But still, I need to be able to use my phone to access it.”

“This is Stark Industries,” Tony snapped. “We don’t do apps.” He sighed, then pulled the hologram back up. “It’s fine. I’ll just build you a new phone.”

“A new phone?”

“Yep,” Tony said, already back to flipping through equations. “Unlimited data and voice minutes, with a side function that brings up gay porn on Nick Fury’s work desktop every twenty-seven minutes. And I’ll put a personal assistant on there, too. We’ll call her Pepper. But don’t flirt with her. I’m putting a function on here that zaps your genitals with seventy volts if you flirt with her.”

“Fine,” Clint said. “Can you have it ready in two weeks?”

“Two weeks?” Tony scoffed. “Try two days. Okay, maybe three. I’ll cook up a fun little archery game for you as a bonus.”

//

In the end, it took Tony a day and a half to finish the project, even though the “fun little archery game” turned out to be a fully-developed virtual world with a sophisticated AI system and about forty-two square miles of terrain, which as far as Clint could tell got hourly updates that continuously added to the game based on the things his character had done in the previous hour. The king of Starklandia did happen to look an awful lot like a certain billionaire Clint knew, but he could handle that. 

The transmitter itself was so tiny Clint couldn’t even see it. It was attached to a tiny needle that Clint could attach to his palm, and all he had to do was manage to touch the person’s skin with his palm briefly and the device would implant itself.

It was almost too easy. Clint let himself into Coulson’s office and lounged on the black leather couch inside, then pulled out his new game to play while he waited. He was just beginning to run from an angry woman who’d heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that he’d been the one who harvested the berries outside her house when Phil came in and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Out,” Coulson said. “I have a teleconference.”

“Okay, okay,” Clint answered, standing up. “Good to see you, Phil.” He held out his hand for a handshake. 

Phil rolled his eyes but apparently decided it was best to humor him. He took Clint’s hand and shook it.

And that was that.

//

Later, Natasha wouldn’t stop bothering him about Phil. Everyone was grieving, she said. He should let his emotions out. He and Phil had been best friends. Why wasn’t he more upset by Phil’s death? Clint let her think that he was just suppressing grief. After all, he wasn’t sure if he was a good enough actor to fake sadness convincingly.

The body at the funeral was a very good approximation. Even Rogers was fooled by it. And honestly, Clint would have been too, if he hadn’t checked just before the ceremony.

He’d ducked into an empty closet and pulled out his phone. “Pepper,” he whispered. “Locate Phil, please.”

“Phil is currently approximately twelve-point-six miles from Tuxpan, Mexico. Environmental sensors indicate that he is currently submerged up to his shoulders in salt water.” Clint knew it wasn’t the real Pepper speaking, but the voice was realistic enough that it almost felt like it.

Clint smiled. About time Coulson had a beach vacation. “Is he healthy?”

“Vital signs are within normal range,” Pepper’s voice said. “Phil is advised to reapply his sunscreen within the next twenty-four minutes and seventeen seconds if he does not wish to begin accumulating a sunburn.”

“Pepper,” Clint said, checking through the crack of the door to make sure no one was outside. “Send him a box of Almond Joy candy bars. Charge it to my account.”

“Yes, Clint, I can do that,” Pepper’s voice replied. “Would you like to include a message?”

Clint considered for a few seconds. “Yeah. Say, ‘You’re a jerk, but it worked. I miss you.’”

“Who should the note be signed by?”

Clint paused. “No one. He’ll know.”


End file.
